Posts Tagged ‘cook’s illustrated’

I want to tell you about my week, but right now it all seems a bit blurry, clouded by the intermittent rain we’ve been experiencing and the busyness that has precluded my memory. Do you ever have weeks like that?

Oh, yes. I am remembering a bit.

Saturday Brian and I went on a rare childless date trying a restaurant that specializes in local and seasonal fare. Later we found ourselves, rather unintentionally, spending the rest of our precious free time perusing Williams-Sonoma, with the sales associate bringing out all of their stock of a particular cutting board I kept eyeing, and lining them up on the sales counter for us to compare.

“Well, I have this food blog I started, and now I’m always checking out interesting cutting boards, imagining how they will look in photos.” I explained to the affably amused sales associate.

I also made this rhubarb galette, which as it turned out, was no minor occurrence.

I’ve been wanting to make something with rhubarb for over a month now, knowing it is in season and seeing it pop up here and there on other blogs, but the farmer’s market down the street is sans rhubarb, and the standard grocers I frequent were completely out two weeks in a row.

“What we had went bad because it wasn’t selling, and we haven’t gotten another shipment in,” I was told by a man in the produce section at my first store, with my second grocer echoing the same.

I feel sad thinking about that, yet I think I understand it. I believe there are many fruits and vegetables that are commonly overlooked simply because people are not familiar with how to cook them or what the end result will taste like. It’s natural to cook with the familiar.

I can be included in this bunch at times. Yes, I’ve had strawberry rhubarb preserves, and I’ve seen and heard about rhubarb many times. But somehow, this was my first time cooking with rhubarb.

“I recognize you,” the produce manager at the second store I’ve been stalking said, “You were here last week looking for rhubarb. We finally got some on the last truck!”

I fumbled through the stack of fresh rhubarb picking out the best looking stalks, – yes, I am like that – bought three pounds, even though I only knew what I was going to do with two, and went to work.

I adapted my rhubarb recipe from a cookbook by the editor’s of Cook’s Illustrated Brian gave me several years ago from which I had not yet tried a single recipe. Judging from my first bite of this galette, if the other recipes turn out anything like this galette turned out, I have been sorely missing out.

Cook’s Illustrated did their own adaptation of the recipe from an apparently well known Portland, Oregon restaurant by the name of Bluehour. When I am in Portland someday, as I am determined I will be, this recipe has certainly earned my patronage at their swanky little outfit.

You start out making the galette dough by combining flour, fine grain corn meal, a bit of confectioner’s sugar and a dash of sea salt with plenty of cold butter, two large egg yolks, and a nice pour of cold buttermilk.

Next you dice the rhubarb and sauté it with raw sugar, lemon zest, and the seeds and pod of one long slender fragrant vanilla bean, just until the rhubarb releases it’s cherry red juices. The sweet vanilla bean speckled juice is saved and simmered down to serve later alongside the galette.

The partially cooked rhubarb is then cooled and tossed with just enough cornstarch for thickening, along with petite cubes of diced butter just for decadence sake.

The galette dough is sprinkled with raw sugar and the ruby filling is placed evenly in the center. The dough edges are then pleated in rose petal like fashion around the filling and whole milk is brushed on the exposed dough folds and finished with final sprinklings of raw sugar.

“I really didn’t know what to expect,” Brian said after taking his first bite, “But the ‘rubber’ pie is GOOOD! I guess we will have to grow our own ‘rubber’ in the garden next year.”

Apparently Brian thinks the word “rhubarb” sounds a bit like “rubber” so he has taken to calling it such, but please do not let this deter you – there is absolutely zero other resemblance between the two, I assure you.

The crust was buttery flaky, edgy from the buttermilk, yet softened by the sweetness of the confectioner’s sugar – and with just a little crunch from the corn meal – this was a crust to come back to.

And the rhubarb. The rhubarb! Sweet tart, rich from the vanilla and butter, accented by hints of lemon playing off the buttermilk tang in the crust. Not too sweet – just right.

You could serve all this artistry with freshly whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, but we happily devoured it with vanilla Greek yogurt and splashes of the vanilla dotted magenta sauce.

Now that rhubarb and I have been properly introduced in my own kitchen, I want to make rhubarb everything! Like this, and this, and this – and many others I am sure I am overlooking in my present state of rhubarb haze – thank goodness I bought extra.

Make the crust by whisking buttermilk, egg yolks, and 1 tablespoon water in a medium bowl. In a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, in a food processor, or in a medium bowl using pastry knives or a fork, combine the flours, confectioners’ sugar and salt. Add the butter to the flour mixture and combine on a low speed just until mixture resembles coarse crumbs, with some pea size bits of butter remaining, about 1 minute. With the mixer or food processor running, or while stirring, add the buttermilk mixture slowly until dough comes together, about 20 seconds (do not overmix). Remove dough from mixing bowl and shape into an 8 inch disk, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate till firm, about 1 hour.

Make the filling by cooking the rhubarb, sugar, salt, lemon zest, vanilla seeds and pod in a 12-inch skillet over high heat until the rhubarb releases its juices, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, carefully transfer and spread rhubarb out on a rimmed baking pan and allow to cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes. Then stir in cornstarch and butter and set aside.

Simmer the juices left in the pan down to about 1/2 cup, 3-5 minutes, allow to cool, and reserve to serve as a syrup alongside the finished galette.

Heat oven to 350 degrees and adjust and oven rack to the middle position. Roll the galette dough out on a lightly floured surface to a 16 inch circle about 1/4 inch thick. Transfer the dough to a piece of parchment paper set on top of a rimless baking sheet. Sprinkle the dough with 2 tablespoons of sugar and then lay rhubarb filling in the middle of the dough, leaving a 3 inch rim uncovered by filling around the edge. Fold the edges of the dough up around the filling, overlapping and pleating at equal intervals. Brush the top of the crust with milk and sprinkle with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, or until crust is golden and filling is bubbling. Cool for 30 minutes and then cut in 8 wedges and serve with cooled rhubarb syrup, vanilla Greek yogurt, whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream.

By nature, I am an introvert, so I tend to keep a few friends close, and tend to find long distances challenging. I am working on this, though I imagine it used to be easier for people to make friends and stay in touch with one another, since historically people tended to live in one place for longer, many times being born, raised, and carrying on the next generation within the same few square miles of their own birth place. Life was also less convenient. Washing and drying clothes, growing and preparing food, and supplying one’s household with basic necessities all required some degree of working outdoors, and invited interaction with one’s neighbors. Life demanded more direct human interchanges than is often required present day, which in turn, created rich, interdependent local communities. You needed your neighbors, and they needed you, and over time, friendships were cultivated.

Though perhaps requiring more conscientious efforts, these sorts of relationships surely live on in the present day, going beyond more casual definitions of friendship in dedication and tolerance, and ultimately still forming the foundations of thriving modern families, communities, and cultures. Friends of this sort do special things things for one another.

Things like throwing one another baby showers, giving up whole Saturdays to help each other replace defunct 1980s water heaters, helping lay new hardwood floors over quite acceptable old hardwood floors, saving a friend from woeful design errors and painting bathrooms in the corrected shade for the friend, ordering perfectly cut custom glass shelves for a friend’s bathroom and driving them over at 11:00 p.m. on a work night so there will be a spot for towels and toiletries for an impending parental arrival the next day, helping with wiring until past midnight, and other special things like making each other homemade birthday cakes.

My husband and I first met Sheila and John in 2007 when I completed my graduate internship at Sheila’s counseling practice, and since that time they have become dear friends.Life is busy, and there are times we do not see each other for several weeks at a time before one set or the other of us will forge the 30 minute drive separating our homes, and remember why we should never let such time spans pass again.

The men do what Sheila and I have come to term “work exchanges“. Jon will come over to our house and help Brian, my husband, with some project, such as cutting and putting up a stairwell banister, or installing accent lights throughout our kitchen, and I will cook dinner for everyone (Indian, Italian and all things dark chocolate are always favorites) and Sheila and I will watch chic flicks late into the night, with the men sometimes pausing to join us for a show, and always stopping for food.

We do the same thing at Sheila’s home. She will cook some gorgeous, elaborate meal and dessert (I have come to learn she is incapable of doing it any other way) and we will sit tending to my little boy and leafing through cookbooks and design magazines while the guys hammer away on some project talking nanotechnology or some other foreign language. I love these days.

For Jon’s birthday this year, Sheila decided we should all go out for Thai and then back to her house for dessert, so I offered to try another yellow cake recipe (which I secretly eagerly volunteered for since I had just bought new cake pans – I get excited about this sort of thing). I say “another”, because since I’ve been thinking about being a better friend over the past several months, I have started making a conscious effort to make birthday cakes more often for people. It is a small gesture, but since I love to bake, it simply fits for me to fill this role, which brings me back to my hunt for my own personal religious yellow cake recipe. I have tried at least five recipes over the past year, with many turning out dry, or too eggy, or even almost a bit like sweet cornbread – all in all, just not what I have been looking for in a classic yellow cake.

But this one turned out just right.It is moist with a tender and delicate crumb, tastes deeply of butter, is beautifully hued from the four eggs, and is not overly sweet.Just about any favorite frosting would pair nicely with this cake. I chose a chocolate cream frosting, using Guittard 61% cocoa disks, which turned out to essentially be an incredibly smooth and luscious ganache – think heavenly, moist, butter laden yellow cake covered by the insides of a decadent chocolate truffle, and that’s what you’ve got here.

In other news, I am starting to read novels again, which I haven’t done since my son was born and since finishing the last Harry Potter book. I have begun with The Keys of the Kingdom by A.J. Cronin because my brother recommended it and because it was on the top of my book pile. I’ll let you know how it goes. My favorite quote so far:

Decisively, Monsignor Sleeth closed the gilt-edged book. “To say the least, you seem to have lost your command of souls.”

“But…” Calmly: “I don’t want to command anyone’s soul.”

Yellow layer butter cake
adapted from American Classics by the editor’s of Cook’s Illustrated

Adjust an oven rack to the lower middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease two 9 inch cake pans with vegetable shortening (I use a natural oil spray) and cover the pan bottoms with rounds of parchment paper or wax paper. Grease the parchment rounds and dust the cake pans with flour, tapping out the excess.

Beat the eggs, milk, and vanilla with a fork in a small bowl; measure out 1 cup of this mixture and set aside. Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment; mix on the lowest speed to blend, about 30 seconds. With the mixer still running at the lowest speed, add the butter one piece at a time; mix until the butter and flour begin to clump together and look sandy and pebbly, with pieces about the size of peas, 30 to 40 seconds after all the butter is added. Add reserved 1 cup of egg mixture and mix at the lowest speed until incorporated, 5 to 10 seconds. Increase the speed to medium-high and beat until light and fluffy, about 1 minute. Add the remaining egg mixture (about 1/2 cup) in a slow steady stream, about 30 seconds. Stop the mixer and scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl. Beat on medium-high until thoroughly combined and the batter looks slightly curdled, about 15 seconds.

Divide the batter equally between the prepared cake pans; spread to the sides of the pan and smooth with a rubber spatula. Bake until the cake tops are light gold and a toothpick or skewer comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. (Cakes may mound slightly but will level when cooled.) Cool on a rack for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the pan perimeters to loosen. Invert one cake onto a large plate, peel off the parchment, and reinvert onto a lightly greased rack. Repeat with the other cake. Cool completely before icing. Store iced cake in the refrigerator, but bring to room temperature before serving (bringing to room temperature took about four to five hours for my cake).

Guittard ganache frosting (Chocolate Cream Frosting)
adapted from American Classics by the editor’s of Cook’s Illustrated

Place the chocolate in a heatproof bowl. Bring the heavy cream to a boil in a small saucepan over medium-high heat; pour over the chocolate. Add the corn syrup and let stand 3 minutes. Whisk gently until smooth; stir in the vanilla. Refrigerate 1 to 1 1/2 hours, stirring every 15 minutes, until the mixture reaches a spreadable consistency (mine got a bit hard, so I microwaved it for a very few seconds and it was perfect. Also, if you heat cake with this frosting on it, the frosting will almost immediately turn to fudge sauce – delicious fudge sauce, but not icing anymore)

* I used 61% Guittard, but would likely go even darker next time around. This had a very smooth, rich chocolate flavor, but if you love dark chocolate, like me, you could go darker. This recipe makes a large amount of frosting and it is rich, so next time I might use 3/4 of the icing for the cake and save the rest to heat up as a sauce to serve over ice cream alongside.
* The corn syrup makes the icing smooth and spreadable, I would not substitute another ingredient.